


we found each other in the dark

by xoxogossipwolf



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Second Person, i dont know, ish, like slight panic attack so, ooooops, post civil war kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 05:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10713351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoxogossipwolf/pseuds/xoxogossipwolf
Summary: “We’re old, Buck. I slept for 70 years, I lost you, then found you. Or you  me. And that doesn’t even begin to cover anything, not really."





	we found each other in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> i finally bit the bullet and watch cw and......this happened. 
> 
> title from we found each other by city and colour

You’re standing at the edge of a quinjet, looking at Steve as he talks about a pretty redhead, cold Siberian air curling around the two of you. You don’t feel it.

“What was her name again?” You ask Steve, he always knows the names of the girls you were trying to impress. You wonder if he knows that it was always him, that you really wanted to impress.

“Dolores. You called her Dot.” You think his smile gets more distant. Vaguely you wonder if she’s still alive, how old she must be. You remember how old you are, the both of you.

“It was so long ago, everything. All of it. We were children, once. It doesn’t seem possible. It feels false. Like this is what we always were.” You tell him, and he turns his face to you. His eyes are impossibly soft, his mouth crooked in a what doesn’t really look like a smile. It makes the hole in your heart ache.

“We’re old, Buck. I slept for 70 years, I lost you, then found you. Or you found me. And that doesn’t even begin to cover anything, not really.” Steve looks down to the cold, cold, landscape below you. You wonder if he’s thinking of that day. You wonder if at the end of this one, you’ll still have him or if history is doomed to repeat itself. Over and over and over.

The sudden and overwhelming need to wrap your cold, cold hand around Zemo’s throat and squeeze threatens to choke you. You remember the way your entire body trembled and struggled when he started to read the words that filled you with dread for a reason you weren’t sure of, still couldn’t put a name to now.

The arrogance he possessed, as if you weren’t once a person. As if now, sometimes that didn’t shine through. How he took you away from the man who so recently found you, again. Without so much as a pause for who you were, who you are.

Steve claps his hand around your shoulder, looking at you with those sad, soft eyes. “You with me?” Steve asks, worry on his face. “I’m here. Just thinking. Sorry.” Steve shakes his head, squeezes your shoulder. You know when he’s about to let go. You bring your hand, your flesh and blood one, up to his, and place it over top.

He looks at you, turns his hand palm up and laces your fingers together, letting them dangle between the two of you. You hope the gesture says everything you are not able to, the words sticking in your throat. When Steve looks at you his eyes have turned into steel. I won't let you go again, not again, again, they seem to scream. You desperately hope your eyes echo this back to him.

*

The bunker is eerie, silent and freezing. Wind whistling through the dilapidated building. Out of nowhere, seemingly,  _his_ voice comes through the place, accented and heavy. You want to rip his throat out so he can’t speak any longer, you just want him to shut up. He doesn’t.

And then,

The video, oh god, the video. You watch yourself with detachment, one hit, two and the man who used to be Howard Stark crumples, ceasing to be. You see Stark trembling, fury and grief mingling together. They might as well be one emotion.

You don’t say, _I wasn’t myself. I had no control. They took me and erased my very soul and replaced it with a machine, he isn’t me. Look at me, look at me. Can’t you see we aren’t the same?_   You don’t say, _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know what it feels like to have the people you loved ripped from you, without mercy, without repentance. I’m sorry I can’t give you back what I took. I’m sorry I got someone I loved back. I’m sorry you can’t._ You don’t say a word, knowing anything you said wouldn't be enough. You stole something from him, you can't give it back. There's no point. 

You watch as Stark whispers in barely contained fury at Steve, Steve admitting, yes, he knew. He knew. And then the world falls apart.

*

When you come to, after the world gets pieced back together, you’re on a shitty, lumpy mattress that makes your back ache. Your entire being is aching and you’re tired. Oh, you’re so tired. Steve is beside you, sitting up, reading a thick file. Relief passes over his face when he sees your eyes are open. “Hi.” He greets you.

You sit up, feeling light on one side. Oh, yeah. Your arm is gone, again. “Where are we?” You look around, no windows, metal door. You feel panic, surely not still in the bunker in Siberia. No, there are millions of places just like that.

“Mongolia.” You nod, sure. Why not Mongolia?

“It was close, but not too close.” Steve offers as an explanation. “We’re kind of being hunted, so. Nothing new.” You just nod again. You look around, the place is nothing to write home about, its also not the worst place you've ever been in. A room divider stands in a corner, hiding what you assume is a toilet. A lonely counter sits beside a shitty fridge that probably doesn’t work. There’s even a spectacularly shitty couch. “Nice digs.” You say, Steve gives you a half-hearted lopsided smile. It makes your heart twinge.

You let yourself sink back into a lying position, Steve does the same, tossing the file on the floor. He turns on his side and grabs your hand, linking your fingers together. You turn your head to face him. He brings your hand up to his mouth, gently kisses the palm. Your heart goes to your throat and your eyes sting, you blink back the tears.

You take your hand and cup his face, you run your finger along his plush, pink lips. His lips part and he kisses your thumb. You close your eyes, he brings your hand to his mouth, kissing palm first, then knuckles. So gently. Always so gentle. A sob is building in your chest, is threatening to claw it's way out of your throat. This is what drowning feels like, you think absently.

Steve brings his body closer to yours, sitting up slightly. He brings you to him, placing your head on his chest. “You can cry, Bucky, if you need to.” Steve whispers, so quietly. You can choose to ignore it, pretend it was only the wind outside. Instead you release the sob that has been threatening to kill you, let yourself gasp for air. It's so loud, so violent that it almost startles you.

Steve lets you soak his t-shirt, whispers soothing words, strokes your hair. This is what being a person feels like, and it hurts. The pain, the guilt, the blood that your hands are drenched in, the missing memories, everything, everything else that you’ve shoved down comes rushing up. It all hurts so much that your bones feel like they’ve turned to liquid fire and you can’t breathe. Your sobs turn to painful, gasping breaths.

Somehow you’re on the floor and Steve is on his knees in front you, your face cupped in his gentle hands. He’s saying something but you can’t hear over the roaring in your ears. “Bucky, breathe. Please.” His thumbs are rubbing soothing circles on the delicate skin under your eyes. Your eyes focus on him, his worried, scared eyes. Your breathing slows, your chest stops violently heaving.

Steve keeps your face in his hands, running his fingers across your eyebrows, cheeks, lips, jaw. When you stop trembling completely you focus, really focus on Steve. The fear in his eyes, the tight line of his mouth. His clenched jaw. “Oh. I’m sorry.” You say, you didn’t mean to worry him, you really didn’t.

Steve lets out something close to a dry sob. “Don’t apologize, it's okay. It's okay to feel.” You nod, you feel so drained. “I love you, Bucky. I love you. I’m here and I love you.” You smile, small and true. His lips, so full and pink are so close, you do what seems the most natural thing in the world. You close the distance. Oh, his lips are as soft as they look. Steve kisses back, so gently. Always so gentle that it almost hurts. He takes one hand and winds it through your hair. You feel yourself smile against his beautiful, plush lips.

When you break apart your head feels a little cloudy, in the best way. Steve has a dopey grin on his so, so pink and swollen lips. You kiss him quickly, a peck. “I love you, too. Always have.” You tell him, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which you think it is.

You both climb back into the too small bed and you rest your head on the solid, real, warm chest of the man you love and you let yourself fall back to sleep with his hand softly carding through your hair.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!! 
> 
> also like i barely edited this so sorry for any glaringly obvious mistakes


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